Bwahaha. My first week of school is FINISHED!

Aaaaaand I have homework. I figured that I might as well update for you guys, though. ;)

Thank you again for all of your kind reviews! You guys are awesome and I love you all.

Enjoy!

Chapter 13

April 2

2:15 P.M.

Miles Edgeworth's House

Miles gazed at the sleeping man in his car.

"Wright. Wake up."

Phoenix's eyes blearily flickered open.

"Get yourself out of the car. The guest room is down the hall from my room. Don't get too comfortable. You're getting kicked out tomorrow morning. Make yourself something to eat. I have to go back to work."

"O…kay…" Phoenix groaned, then scooted out of his seat, standing on wobbly legs and following Edgeworth to the guest room, where he collapsed onto the dark green bed and closed his eyes.

Edgeworth sighed and reflected on the strange occurrence in his office. That voice on the radio had sounded familiar… Shaking it off, he locked the front door and returned to his car.

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April 2

2:30 P.M.

Criminal Affairs Department

"How'd I do?" Larry beamed.

"Great, pal! Mr. Edgeworth never suspected a thing!"

"That's good, but… Franny, did you really have to whip me? Ow!"

"You will address me by my proper name, you bumbling fool," snapped Franziska, the handle of the whip taut in her hand. "And yes, I did. Authenticity is the key to perfection."

"All right," grinned Detective Gumshoe. "Let's see how this turns out."

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April 2

5:30 P.M.

Miles Edgeworth's House

"Ugh," Phoenix moaned, sitting up and rubbing his head. Opening his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar room.

'What the hell?… Oh, right.'

Stumbling into the kitchen, he rummaged through Edgeworth's refrigerator. He felt like he hadn't eaten in weeks, though it had only been a few days. Knowing that it wouldn't be wise to eat very much right away, he pulled out some bread and put two slices in the toaster. As he pushed down the lever, he heard the jingling of keys, and the sound of a door opening.

"Wright?…"

"Hey, Edgeworth," he called. The aforementioned prosecutor followed the sound of his voice into the kitchen. Setting down his briefcase, he pulled out a chair and sat at the table.

"I assume you slept well?"

"Yeah," Phoenix replied, yawning. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

Edgeworth snorted.

"At least you didn't make too much of a mess in my absence."

The toast popped up, and Phoenix put the two slices on a small dish and began slathering them with peanut butter. Feeling a small weight on his leg, he looked down to see Pess, whose paws were pressed against Phoenix's thigh.

"Sorry, Pess. I'm eating all of this," Phoenix grinned, carrying his food to the table and sitting down across from Edgeworth, who watched with slight amusement as the defense attorney wolfed down the toast, getting peanut butter smeared on his cheek. Finally, he finished, and leaned back with a sigh. His friend passed him a napkin and pointed to his cheek.

"Oh, thanks," Phoenix muttered, slightly embarrassed. Rubbing at the offending blob, he inquired, "Seriously. Why did you help me? It's… not like you."

Edgeworth looked at his folded hands.

"Pearl and Maya insisted. You should really inform Pearl that violence is rarely the answer."

Phoenix laughed, remembering the times when Pearl had punched him.

"Only if you tell your sister the same thing."

"Believe me, I've tried," smirked Edgeworth. "She responded in her usual manner."

Phoenix winced as he recalled Franziska's lashings.

"By the way… that file you delivered… which one was it? I don't recall needing anything…"

Miles narrowed his eyes in puzzlement.

"The GS-3 file, although I'm fairly sure I already delivered it. I found it stuffed in my bookcase."

"You did deliver it. A few weeks ago, I think. How did it get back in your office?"

Miles shrugged.

"Don't ask me. The detective was the one who wanted me to deliver it."

"But how would he know – "

"Unless – "

The two looked at each other in comprehension. Phoenix's blue eyes widened, a trait Miles found endearing.

'No! Shut up!' he mentally told himself. 'Not now!'

"Miles? You okay?"

"Yeah," he moaned. "It's just… they were setting us up, weren't they? They wanted you to move in with me."

"I'm pretty sure," frowned Phoenix, a small crease appearing in his forehead, "but why?"

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April 2

6:00 P.M.

Maya Fey's House

Maya sighed and drummed her fingers on the table, holding the phone up to her ear.

"No, Nick, we're not planning anything," she insisted for what seemed like the billionth time. "We were just worried about you. I don't know anything about that file. I thought he had delivered it too." She listened to the steadily rising voice on the other end. "Well, I'm not sure. You'll have to ask him. But, Nick… is it really so bad, living with Mr. Edgeworth?" She grinned at the stuttered protests on the other line. "Uh-huh. Just one night. Sure. Got it. No, I'm not going anywhere with this. Come on, you know me better than that!" A scowl crossed her face as she heard a sarcastic comment grumbled by Phoenix. "Hey, that is totally unjustified! Now please, make sure that you and Mr. Edgeworth don't wake up the neighbors tonight. See ya." She pressed the "off" button on the telephone and replaced it on the register. Knowing Nick, he would be staring at the phone, confused, and say something like "What the hell was she implying?" Humming the Steel Samurai theme song cheerfully, she returned to her favorite childhood manga that she was reading, a rather exciting story about a student who gained a mysterious power that slowly corrupted his mind. She had forgotten everything but the basic plot, so it was fun to read it again. 'I wish someone would make a Steel Samurai manga…'

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April 2

6:01 P.M.

Miles Edgeworth's House

Phoenix stared at the phone in his hand, confused.

"What the hell was she implying?" he asked it, placing it on the coffee table. A pointed glare from Edgeworth, who was reading the newspaper, caused him to get up and bring it back to the phone dock before settling back on the couch and putting his legs up on the other end. Miles closed his newspaper, stood up, and set it on his just-used armchair.

"Really, Wright. I'm right here. There's no need to look to the telephone for intelligent conversation. I would have expected it of Larry, but not you, as idiotic as you are at times."

Phoenix raised an eyebrow.

"What did I tell you about calling me Wright?"

"Must you always be hung up over such trivial matters?"

"Must you always provide me with an opportunity?"

They stared at each other for a while before Miles sighed and shoved Phoenix's legs off the couch before sitting down.

"Wright… Phoenix. What do you usually have for dinner?

Phoenix frowned. What an odd question.

"Um… I generally get takeout, or I eat some beans or something. Why?"

Miles shook his head in disgust.

"At least your habits don't mirror the detective's instant noodle fetish. I asked because there has been a… bet, of sorts, about who had the lowest salary between the two of you. Of course, I don't gamble, so I refused to take part, but the rest of the police department has been quite enthusiastic about throwing their money around. Which reminds me, I have to make dinner. Spaghetti will be satisfactory, I assume?"

Phoenix nodded, vowing to find whoever had started the bet and make him regret it. He wasn't so poor as to compare with Gumshoe, for crying out loud! He was just… financially challenged. Yes, that was it. Financially challenged.

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Phoenix crunched his piece of garlic toast, not remembering the last time that he had eaten so well. Generously covering his spaghetti with parmesan cheese, he grinned at Miles across the table.

"It's really good. Thanks," he said. Miles nodded, pouring himself a glass of wine. Phoenix, noticing this, filled his own glass as well. He was tired of the cheap beer that he usually had.

As Phoenix wolfed down his food, Miles watched the amount of wine in the bottle slowly dwindle down to about half of what it was originally. Phoenix, he noted dryly, could handle his alcohol quite well, merely becoming chattier than he already was. He was slightly loosened up himself, having had two glasses of wine, which was nothing compared to Phoenix's four.

The defense attorney finished his meal and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Aah, that was great! You're a really good cook, Miles. Here, I'll do dishes." He cleared the table rapidly and began running water in the sink.

"Do you even own dishes, Phoenix?"

"Shut up! Sure, I'm not too familiar with all this fancy fragile stuff you've got, but – whoops!" A plate slipped from his hand, but Pess, who had been following him around after Phoenix had given him a bit of garlic bread, caught the dish between his teeth and ran back to Miles, placing it in his hand and wagging his tail.

"Oh, fine," Miles sighed, giving the plate back to Phoenix. Noticing Phoenix's confused glance, he explained, "Pess likes it when I play Frisbee with him about this time every evening. We'll be out back if you need us." He turned around and let his dog out the back door, leaving Phoenix to his own devices.

This was a bad idea, he realized, as he came in about fifteen minutes later. Phoenix was sitting on the couch, one hand wrapped in about ten feet of gauze. The defense attorney winced as he cradled his hand gently in the other hand, looking up at Miles when he sat beside him.

"Your damn garbage disposal tried to eat me," he muttered, adjusting the gauze slightly. Miles rolled his eyes.

"You're a moron, Wright. Let me see." He took the bandaged hand in his own and began unwrapping the bandages. "Did you wash it, at least?"

"Uh… forgot about that," grinned Phoenix sheepishly, rubbing his head. Miles yanked him up and dragged him to the bathroom, making his way to the last layer of gauze. He tugged gently, only to meet with resistance.

"OW! Shit, Miles!"
"I have to do this, Phoenix. Find something to hold onto, if that helps." Phoenix looked around frantically, then clenched Miles' shoulder as his hand screamed in pain.

Bandages removed, Miles ran some cold water in the sink while examining the large gashes that ran across his friend's hand, which were bleeding profusely. Shoving the hand under the faucet, he rummaged through his medicine cabinet, Phoenix relaxing as the water soothed the pain. Miles then shut off the faucet and gently took Phoenix's hand, rubbing some antibacterial cream on it before wrapping some new gauze around it. "Honestly. What would you do without me to take care of you?" he chided, lifting his gaze, only to find that Phoenix's face was right in front of his. Flushing slightly, he made minor adjustments to the bandages.

Phoenix was very aware that Miles was holding his hand, treating it… almost tenderly. His face rapidly turned a light shade of red, gripping Miles' fingers instinctively as Miles raised his head again.

'Should I…'

"Thank you," he whispered, oblivious to Miles' slight shudder.

"Um… you're welcome," Miles stuttered, his hot breath raising goosebumps on Phoenix's skin.

Phoenix gulped audibly, his flush becoming deeper as butterflies twirled in his stomach.

'It's now or never,' he thought, beginning to lean towards Miles' inviting face.